I'm glad you're alive
by EvenBirdsNeedToLearnHowToFly
Summary: 3 months after the battle of New York, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff get a call. It's Phil. Clint and Natasha find out that Coulson is alive, but he needs their help. Can they save the day before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**This was originally meant to be a one shot but then I had too many ideas for it and decided to turn it into a multi-chapter fic. I don't own anything to do with Marvel or agents of shield. Trigger warnings for mentions of suicide, self-harm, depression and eating disorders. Sorry if this is littered with mistakes, I wrote this on my phone and my auto correct can be a bit funny sometimes. **

Dead

That one word echoed around his skull as he sat there, surrounded by heroes. People with suits and serums. Gods. He didn't belong there. He wasn't a hero; he wasn't even a good person. He was a villain, a bad guy. The exact people he tried to stop, he had become. He killed people. He killed Coulson. Coulson was dead. Gone. He couldn't think, thoughts racing around his head. He needed to leave. To get out of here. He pushed his chair back with such force that it clattered to the ground before practically running from the shawarma restaurant.

By the time he stopped running, he was dizzy and lightheaded. Leaning against a dumptser in an alley he caught his breath. He had only run for a few blocks, there was no way he was this out of breath. His stomach rumbled as he realised that he hadn't even touched his shawarma. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Taken a nap? He slid down the side of the dumpster until he was sitting on the floor. He ripped his aids out and threw them against the other side of the wall. His aids with his comms in. The comms on which he would never hear the voice of his handler again.

He sensed someone coming into the alley. "It wasn't your fault Clint." Of course she had followed him.

"Go 'way Tasha, I just want to be alone." He hated speaking without his aids, not knowing what he sounded like, how loud he was speaking.

"What we want isn't always what we need."

"Was it Loki?" Her signed back to her. She must have noticed his aids lying by the wall.

He noticed her breathing hitch before answering. She wasn't as in control of her emotions as she was showing then. "Yeah. It." She paused. "It was when I was going after you. He took on Loki alone. Thor was… there when it happened."

"So it was my fault then. I let Loki on the carrier. Without me, Coulson would still be alive, the hellicarrier wouldn't be down for the next few months for repairs, and none of this would have happened. It's all on me Tash." He would adamantly refuse the fact that there was a tear rolling down his face by the last sentence.

"It wasn't you Clint. You weren't in control and you didn't know what you were doing." She hesitated for a second before signing again. "Do you remember it?"

He scoffed. "Every last second. Watching as I hurt and tortured, watching as I shot at Maria, shot Fury. Screaming to be let out but being chained down by his magic."

"But you were fighting. That's what makes you a good person. You saw what you were doing and you fought yourself. And it worked Clint. You and I both know how paranoid Fury is; I reckon he wears his vest to bed. You could have shot at his head, or even checked to see if he was dead, but you didn't. And with Maria, with me. You're the greatest marksman in the world, there is no way you could have missed those shots, but somehow we are both still alive and kicking. Explain that."

Instead of answering, he looked up at her with despairing eyes. "He's gone Tash." His movements were jerky and barely understandable, hindered by emotion.

"I know." Her reply was no better, her attempts at clamping down her emotions failing. And so the two grieving assassins sat, leaning against a smelly dumpster in an alley, mourning their handler and most importantly, friend.

LINE BREAK

**3 months later**

The phone at the avengers tower rang, a screen appearing in front of the two resident assassins, showing the call was for them. Puzzled, Clint told Jarvis to accept the call. He couldn't figure out who it could be, anything S. H. I. E. L. D. related would come through the main connection or would have been talked about today. The TV paused whilst the call connected and when the screen came to life, it was most definitely a surprise. Phil Coulson was staring at them, an apprehensive expression on his face as the spies stared at him in shock. Natasha recovered first, and told Jarvis to shut it down thinking it was a cruel prank. However, Coulson heard this and immediately began to protest. "No no Natasha, listen to me. I'm sorry; just hear me out, please." Suspicious, Natasha nodded indicating that he should get on with it.

"I need your help. Fury would be having kittens if he knew I was doing this. In fact, he will have kittens when he inevitability finds out but I have nowhere else to turn. One of my agents is in critical, 2 GSW to the stomach. She's not expected to make it, but there is one more place we need to try first. And I need you to help me, please."

Both assassins were staring at the screen, eyes wide in disbelief. "What were my first words to you when you found me?" Clint felt a small bubble of hope rising up in his chest. Could it be…?

"Clint-"

"Answer him!"

Coulson looked taken aback by the demand from Natasha. He didn't know what he expected when he decided to call his old assets, but it definitely wasn't this.

"I had chased you down for over 20 minutes. We had lost the rest of my team ages ago and we were nearly out of the city. You had taken to the rooftops and I had, reluctantly, followed. I was nearly out of bullets and thought I was going to lose you, until I got lucky. One of my shots hit you left leg, just below your knee and you stumbled before falling from the rooftops to the ground below, which wasn't what I had intended. You were barely conscious by the time I got down to you and when you noticed me you came out with the jumbled slur of 'yuck fou'. I have never told anyone else that story, as you very well know, and we had decided that should anything happen to one of us that would cast doubts about our identities that would be the safety question." Calm and collected as always, if slightly puzzled, Coulson answered the question.

"It's really you. But Phil, you're meant to be dead!"

"... Fury said he told you. He said you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I'm… you know, not dead."

"Do these look like the faces of 2 people who knew?"

"No. I'm sorry Tasha, I thought you knew."

"Explain. Explain how you're alive. You died! We went to you funeral! We mourned you!"

"And I'm sorry Clint. I promise, had I had even the slightest inkling that you didn't know, that you didn't know I was alive, I would have broken every rule Fury gave me and told you straight away."

Neither of the spies answered him, so he continued.

"I did die, Loki did kill me, but somehow Fury brought me back. I don't know how and I don't know what he did, but whatever it was, it saved me. He told me that the avengers knew I was alive, that you knew, but that I couldn't make contact with you for security reasons. That I have a new team now. He said you were pissed, and rightly so might I add, but had accepted it."

"He never told us, he said you were dead. What do you mean a new team? Don't we mean anything to you? Don't I? You said you would always be there for me, that you would never leave me. You can't just leave Phil! We thought you were dead, I thought I killed you! I did kill you! You can't just do this to us Phil! To me!" Both Natasha and Coulson watched as he fled from the room, leaving an awkward silence behind him.

"I'm going to kill Fury." Muttered a despairing Coulson.

"Afraid you're going to have to get in line for that. I can't believe it's really you Phil. I thought you were gone. How did you survive?"

"As I said, I don't know. The only thing that we do know is that a serum - GH325 - was pumped into me as a last resort, and I started to heal. We are trying to get the same drug to give to Skye, one of my new agents. She was shot in the stomach twice and the doctors say she won't survive. But I need your help. The only person we have been able to link to the drug is Karsa Lakatos."

"Lakatos?"

"Yup. Looks like he has once again got tangled up in drug dealing. Only this time it's slightly more illegal than your usual drug ring." He sighed, his eyes flicking to door from where Clint had made his hasty exit. "How has he been?"

Her expression hardened, her eyes turning dark. "Bad. There's going to be nothing left of Fury if I get my hands on him. 3 suicide attempts, self-harming, depression and his eating disorders have come back full force. He seemed to be getting better recently, finally accepting that what happened wasn't his fault. He blames himself, Coulson. You couldn't have visited him after the battle? Did you just get your new orders and forget about us?"

"Natasha, I only got out of hospital last month." Ignoring her rather scary mutterings about disembowelling Fury, he continued. "This whole team thing is new and different. Skye isn't even an S.H.I.E.L.D agent; she's a hacker who we recruited for the team."

"Who else is in this team them? Who are our replacements?"

"Natasha, it isn't like that. It's S.H.I.E.L.D, you get your orders and you follow them. And trust me, I do miss you. We've got 2 young scientists fresh from the lab, Ward, Skye and May." He chuckled at the scoff she gave at Ward. He really wasn't the most liked of agents.

"May? I thought she was off duty after...you know." May had been one of the agents' closest friends before the mission went wrong.

"I got her to join with the promise of a very big plane and plenty of flying time. She was originally just the pilot but I think she can't help herself joining in sometimes."

"Good old Melly."

A silence filled the air, it was the first time in a long time that the agents had felt uncomfortable around each other.

"So… will you help? Fury will have a fit but it's our only chance, you're the only one who knows Lakatos enough to have a chance at getting him to agree. And if that fails your skills will most definitely be appreciated when we blow the place to the high heavens. Both of your skills."

"It's a yes from me. I'll go talk to him, he might come around. And Phil, I'm glad you're alive."

He smiled at the rare show of affection from the usually cold-hearted assassin. "So am I, Natasha. So am I."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N So…not dead. I didn't plan to disappear for months, just putting it out there, because I did promise chapters before seemingly falling off the moon. Firstly, my fanfiction started having a meltdown and wouldn't let me on for weeks. Then when it finally did let me on again, we were a day from exam season and I barely had time to breathe, let alone write. I also lost the few chapters I had written in advance when my google docs broke down. After that, it was just a case of trying to finding time I really didn't have and me being a queen procrastinator. However, both this and a random one shot I came up with at like 2am are being uploaded today and there **_**should**_** be a new chapter of The Weeping Angel tomorrow. **_**Should. **_**No promises because they don't seem to mean much anymore. So mini apology? Unless you hate my writing. In which case I don't know why you'd follow me…. Yeah we'll go with that. I don't own marvel or any of the characters in this nor am I pretending to. Don't think there's any warnings minus mild language and crappy writing. Don't forget to follow and favourite if you want to know when I next upload and leave a review if you enjoyed. **

'Knock, knock.'

"Piss off, Tasha.' Natasha was leaning against the outside of the door to Clint's apartment. She had a key and could easily open the door without it should she have felt it was needed, but if being alone was what Clint wanted, she would allow him that small privilege. She couldn't imagine what he was going through. It was hard enough for her; Clint had known Coulson since he was an unruly teenager. She knew that he had been carrying the guilt of what had happened on his shoulders since the battle and had just been slowly accepting the fact that it wasn't his fault. It hadn't been without struggles though; she hasn't seen Clint this bad since the run in with his old circus folk a few years back. She really hoped this wouldn't set him back.

She slid down the door and heard Clint do the same on the other side. "Talk to me Clint, please." She was doing her best to not let her emotions over take her, to keep her voice clear of emotions and tears. She heard a sob come from the other side of the door and her resolve solidified. She would be the strong one, the one to support Clint. She would allow herself to break down later, in the privacy of her room. There wasn't time now. After another minute of silence, she started to speak. "Coulson needs our help Clint. One of his agents is dying, the medics can't do anything. His only hope is a serum, but Lakatos has himself wrapped up in it. Coulson wants us, scratch that, Coulson _needs _us to try to talk to him. And should that fail, he said would more than appreciate our skills if it came to blows.'

She waited a minute, more tears but no response. 'He's alive Clint.' As much as she hated it, there was no hiding the slight wobble in her voice. 'He's alive and he needs our help.'

'Well I needed him. I needed him to just be alive, to tell me it wasn't my fault. And now it turns out he was alive the whole time, hiding from us.' Natasha breathed a big sigh of relief at hearing his voice, however tear choked it sounded.

'He thought we knew Clint, he didn't mean for us to think he was dead. He only got out of hospital last month.' She tried a different tactic. 'Don't you want to see him, won't it help if you can see him, apologise, and hear from him that he doesn't blame you, because I can guarantee he doesn't. Don't you want to stop blaming yourself?' She closed her eyes and leant her head back against the door, allowing the tears building up in her eyes to run down her face. Coulson was like a father to her, the first parental figure she'd had since her parents had been brutally murdered in front of her. She'd taken his death hard, also blaming herself to some extent. She knew it was ridiculous, that it was no one's fault but Loki's, but couldn't help herself think, what if? What if she'd have had been able to calm Bruce down, to figure out Loki's plan sooner? What if she'd been with Coulson, been able to stop Loki from pushing the blade into his very human body?

Footsteps at the end of the corridor alerted her to someone else's presence. She opened her eyes, Steve. A very concerned looking Steve at that. She quickly wiped her cheeks, hoping he hadn't seen but knowing it was too little too late. Her cheeks flushed red at being caught in her moment of weakness. She was the Black Widow for Christ's sake, she shouldn't be crying, let alone where she could be seen. 'Natasha? Are you alright? What happened?' She heard movement from behind the door and knew Clint could hear what was going on. Curse Steve and his inability to let things go.

She viciously glared at him, the warning clear in her now glinting eyes. She took pleasure in seeing him recoil slightly, it wasn't often that Steve was on the receiving end of her ire and even she was surprised at how ready she was to snap his neck. She knew that wasn't good. She tried to calm down but the Widow already had a hold. She felt herself losing control and swore under her breath. It wasn't often her conditioning was an issue nowadays. It'd been so long since she fled the Red Room and she hadn't lost control in way over a year. The avengers had been warned and with a few close calls here and there, she hoped Steve would realise what was happening. She was close to hyperventilating now, fighting with herself for control of her mind. Steve was bent down next to her, trying to calm her down. She focused on his words for a moment, trying to ground herself and tell if he knew what was happening at the same time. Judging by his panicked 'What's wrong?', he didn't. The only two people she could trust to know what's happening, well one was God knows where looking after a dying agent and the other was behind this door. She had no choice. She started gasping his name, trying to get the messages across to him. Suddenly her vision was full of his face and she could distantly hear him telling Steve to get away.

She focused on his voice, pushing the Widow back, hearing him tell Jarvis to clear the area. The Widow wouldn't hurt Clint. It was one thing they'd found out over the years. Her trust in him must extend to her alter ego since the Widow had never attacked him. He had her hands pinned down by her sides and was exaggerating his American accent, trying to ground her, a subtle way of telling her mind that they were safe, free from the Red Room. She felt her head against the door, still closed; he must have come out a different way. She slowly felt her vision clearing and her breath evening out as the Widow resided. She felt the usual dizziness that followed a 'Widow alert' as Clint liked to call it and welcomed the blackness that slid over her eyes. She lasted just about long enough to feel her partner's hand running through her hair before she was out.

Clint's Pov

I watched as Natasha pupils shrunk and her breathing cleared and I knew we were safe. I breathed a sigh of relief; it had been a close one. I looked down to see Natasha lean her head on my shoulder and I repositioned myself so I was against the wall. I saw her eyes slip closed and pulled her closer to me as she lost her grip on consciousness. The Widow alerts took a lot out of her and as far back as I could remember she had always passed out straight afterwards. I told Jarvis the all clear and picked her up gently, even though I knew nothing would wake her. I checked my door was still locked, and that I'd replaced the air vent cover when I crawled through it before taking her to her room. I entered the code, scanned my thumbprint and opened the door. Whilst I felt safe enough with a manual key, Natasha had countless security systems on her door. Quite a pain to do one handed but I just wanted to get into the room before someone saw us again.

I placed her on her bed and sat down next to her. I'd barely had a chance to relax before her phone started ringing on the bedside dresser. I was half-tempted to ignore it, too mentally exhausted to find the effort to answer it but froze when I looked at the caller. Coulson. I debated with myself for a moment before picking it up. Natasha wouldn't mind, we answered each other's phones all the time and I couldn't keep putting this off. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, I swiped to the right to answer it and took a deep breath.

"Hello?" There was a moment or two of silence before I heard the voice of my not so dead handler. "Clint?"

"Yup" I fiddled with my zipper on my jacket. Things had never been so awkward between us. Even in my early days at SHIELD Coulson had always been the one person I felt comfortable with. "Where's Nat?"

"Steve caught her crying and she lost control. Widow alert. I managed to calm her down just in time but she's passed out now."

"Oh. She alright?"

"Think so. Steve very nearly wasn't cus he didn't realise what was going on." I heard a slight snort of laughter before we were back to the awkward silence. "Clint?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Me to." I sighed.

"What have you got to be sorry for? I left you. I did exactly what I promised I would never do."

"I killed you, it was my fault. Maybe not directly, but it was because of me that Loki got on the Helicarrier. I-."

"Clint. Stop it. I know you and your tendencies to blame yourself but this isn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. I don't blame you. No one does." I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. Natasha was right; I did need to hear that. I made up my mind.

"Where's Lakatos?"

"You'll help?" I heard the hope in his voice and knew that whoever the agent is, they meant a lot to him. It hurt that we used to be his agents, that he cared that much about us. It used to be us that he would move heaven and earth to bring home safe. I pushed down the feelings of rejection and made my voice steady as I replied. "Yeah, I'll help"

'Me to.' I looked round in surprise and Natasha was sitting up, a small smile on her face, looking a bit shaky but otherwise. 'You good?' I mouthed, receiving a firm nod of her head in response. She made grabby hands for the phone and I handed it over, listening to the details of the plan being set in place. Despite the happenings of the last hour, I felt a smile creep onto my face. Strike team Delta was back together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for disappearing again. I feel like all I do here is apologise. The past few weeks have been a clusterfuck irl and I've struggled to find time or to be in the right headspace to write. My grandmother has been diagnosed with Cancer and we can't get over to see her – she didn't move over to England with us. It's spread and is probably too far along to do anything for her and I just haven't been in the right place to write with all this going on. And then there's just some vague issues going on with me and my not really working in multiple ways self which can make it very hard to do stuff a lot of the time. This was only meant to be a 3 chapter fic and I was planning on making this one longer than usual and finishing it in one chapter, but I wanted to get something up this week so I cut it off here. Also, since Amazon have taken Aos down, I do not have access to the first season therefore most of this is based on what I can remember and what Wikifandom can tell me. So it's probably not that accurate. I don't own marvel and neither do I pretend to. Warnings for some swearing and I think, for once, that's it. No promises on when the next chapter goes up but it should be some point soonish.**

I flicked the switch to lower the ramp and started powering down the Quinjet. I took my time with checking everything, delaying the inevitable. We had docked the Quinjet on Coulson's 'Bus' as he had called it and knew we had to go down into the plane at some point. We were already on our way towards what was known as the Guest House and we needed to get ready for what was likely to turn into a very messy mission. Natasha sat to the side watching me and when I ran out to things to fiddle with, I turned to the side to face her. She was trying to put on a brave face but I could tell she was in no way okay. Strike team delta was the closest thing to a family she ever had, we were the people who looked after when she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. The fact that Coulson had triggered a widow alert was an indication to that, the last time she had lost control was when a FUBAR mission landed us a mile away from the old red room facilities. Natasha looked tired, her normally alert eyes dulled slightly by the activities of the day. We sat there looking at each other for a moment, building up the courage to do anything other than sitting here.

I opened my mouth to say something when I heard footsteps clanking up the metal ramp before coming to a rest. We both looked at the same time, even though I already knew who it was. No one else would be suicidal enough to board the avengers Quinjet unannounced. Especially with us on it. We had a… reputation in S.H.I.E.L.D. for not exactly being the friendliest of people. I suddenly found myself facing the third member of Strike team delta, the first person I ever really trusted, the man who I thought I had killed. Every instinct in me was telling me bolt but I held still, partly because unless I felt like taking a swim in whatever ocean we were currently over, I had nowhere to bolt to. He was facing us, his face an emotionless mask but I could see his eyes tearing up slightly. I heard Natasha's breathing hitched slightly and hoped she had the Widow under control; it was always easier for her to trip it shortly after a widow alert. She once described it as something being woke up inside her and it needing to fall back asleep before she could feel in control again.

No one moved for about a minute and whilst someone else might have described it as awkward or uncomfortable, I felt neither of those things. Coulson was the first to speak, a slightly choked 'I'm sorry' that I felt like it was a physical blow to my being. Almost like a balloon being popped, I slumped in my seat with my head in my hands, unable to stop the tears that were now streaming down my face. Coulson was by my side in a second as my mind just shut down, the relief finally sinking in. He was holding both me and Natasha, speaking words but not really making sentences. Even after all these years, it was odd to see the typically unflappable Coulson like this. After a minute of gathering ourselves and what I'm sure was tears, no matter how much Natasha would argue, a subdued Coulson led us into the very impressive plane. I eyed the bar jealously, resisting the temptation to pour myself a scotch and drown out the pesky buggers that were feelings.

When we walked out into what I presumed was the briefing room, Natasha and May nodded at each other, which I assumed was their superspy version of a best friend hug. Brief introductions were done and the two young scientists, Fitzsimmons, looked in awe at the presence of two Avengers in the room. "So, what's the plan?" I asked, watching everyone's eyes turn to me. The time for reunions had gone and everyone had snapped into mission mode. I watched the Holotable come to life as Simmons started talking, apparently getting over her hero worship as she flicked pieces of information around the table.

Line break

I walked up to Coulson standing outside the small medical ward on the plane. Glancing inside I saw a young woman, deathly pale and still contained inside a small glass chamber. "What's her name?"

"Skye." Coulson's face was dark and pinched with worry, a look I recognised well from the years he spent fussing over us. Apparently I was 'highly accident prone with no sense of self-preservation' and combined with Natasha's determination to never leave a job unfinished, we saw the inside of the med bay considerably more than most. "What happened? Fitz said she got shot."

"She went in after a hostile alone and without backup. It was her own choice but-"

"-But you feel responsible." He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window. "Look Phil, how many times have we had this conversation? How many times have I done something that's landed me in medical? And how many times have I had to persuade you that it's not your fault? Take it from someone who regularly gets themselves into situations like this, she won't blame you and nothing you could have done would have stopped her if she had set her mind to it."

"She's not even an agent; she was a hacktivist who got tangled up in one of our missions. I just feel responsible for her even being here, let alone getting injured." He looked up at me suddenly, changing the subject. "Could you hear Fitz okay back there? His accent can be quite strong and I know you have troubles with new speech patterns." I smirked. "Say that again?" He gave me a look that conveyed just how done with me he was. "Stark make me some new hearing aids. 100 times better than the shitty things S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me."

Coulson smiled at me, his eyes slightly more wrinkled than when I last saw him. I didn't know what he had been put through to be brought back to life but it seemed to have taken a lot out of him. It wasn't just his appearance though, he was acting differently. It could have been the worry or the slight lingering awkwardness between us, but there was something about him that seemed… Different almost. Less reserved, more determined. We had settled into a comfortable silence, side by side leaning against the wall when a blaring alarm sounded inside the med bay and a frantic Simmons came barrelling down the Bus. No matter what happened afterwards, today we had one mission. To save Skye.


End file.
